


once we were forever

by OfTheMoon_And_Stars



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, M/M, POV Alternating, a lot of arguments, i wrote yaku and kuroo like kghn, kuroo is an idiot most of the time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28155984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfTheMoon_And_Stars/pseuds/OfTheMoon_And_Stars
Summary: Master assassin, knife expert, killer extraordinaire, Kozume Kenma. Otherwise known as a massive pain in Kuroo's ass. He isn't exactly friends with Kenma, so when he's assigned to work with him, tensions rise and their unresolved past begins to unravel.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35
Collections: Kuroken Christmas Exchange 2020





	once we were forever

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this is,,, basically my brain spitting out scenes and my meager attempts to tie them together in a cohesive universe. to my giftee, i hope you like it!

Kozume Kenma is a top class assassin, having mastered his weapon of choice, daggers. His blades are coated with poison, if only to make his job easier. On missions, he always completes the task, no matter who he endangers to do it. He’s heartless, putting even civilian lives at risk when it came down to it. 

He’s also a massive pain in Kuroo’s ass.

He says as much to Kai, who’s patiently watching as he rants. “I’m not working with him,” Kuroo says, annoyed. “No way in hell.”

“Take that up with Nekomata.” Kai gathers the papers he’d spread out on the table into a manila folder, sliding it across to Kuroo. He grabs his briefcase. “Don’t shoot the messenger.” The ever-present placating smile is on his face, unfazed in the face of Kuroo’s stubbornness.

Kuroo groans. “Why, why, why, why, why, why do I have to work with him?” He’d teamed up with Kenma once. Once, at the start of their careers.nHe’d sworn never to work with him again. 

Kai shrugs. “He’s ruthless, you’re reckless. Bound to be a good match.”

“Quite frankly, it sounds the opposite, but you do you, Kai.” Yaku pipes up from across the room, not looking up from where he’s filing his nails. “Anything to get Kuroo to shut up about Kozume.”

“I literally hate you.” Kuroo deadpans.

This draws a snort from Yaku. He reaches his arm out, examining his handiwork. “I could probably kill your whole family and you’d still hate Kozume more.” He gives Kuroo a long look. “Not that I would. You’re insufferable enough when you’re an ally. I don’t care for how it’d be for an enemy.” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Oh, I know already.” Yaku turns his head to Kuroo and smirks. “I have to deal with you griping about that guy all day long.”

“Guys, guys.” Kai’s voice breaks in. “I’m gonna get a migraine.” The smile on his face is getting forced. Kuroo and Yaku both know what’s best for them, and that’s not getting their asses handed to them by Kai, resident martial arts expert, so they wisely shut up. After a moment of silence, Kai picks up the folder and steps around the table to hand it to Kuroo. “Review your briefing. Make a plan, and don’t let your feelings get in the way.”

“Is that a quote from Nekomata?” Kuroo says, trying for a bit of snark while taking the folder.

“Kuroo.” The pleasant tone and expression do nothing to mask Kai’s annoyance, so Kuroo steps aside and lets him leave. He shudders when the door falls closed behind Kai.

“He’s scary sometimes.”

“Sometimes? Try all the time. You’re supposed to be higher ranking than him, but he’s the one ordering us around.” Yaku blows on his nails. 

“Look me in the eye and tell me you want to piss Kai off.”

“Fine, fine, you're right,” Yaku concedes. A satisfied smile makes its way to Kuroo’s face as he flips open the folder, eyes falling to the shaky photo of the targets. A couple, both of whom were at the centre of a double pronged operation, one working in the public light and the other from the shadows. 

“Watanabe Hanabi and Shunichi, huh.” 

“Ooh, you got those two?”

“What, are they well known?”

Yaku sighed, swinging his legs off the couch and getting up. “It’s impressive how clueless you are. Being locked up in your lab all the time isn’t healthy, you know.” He grabs the files from Kuroo, thumbing through.

“Since when do you care?” 

“Since half the org’s success hinges on the quality of your poisons.” Yaku stops on a certain page and pulls it out from the stack. “There we go. Shunichi runs a non-profit organization, or so they call it. They take a majority of the profits and send it to Hanabi. She uses it to run a small drug trafficking ring.”

Kuroo leans in, recognizing the logo. “So the classic awful people.” He hums, considering his options. “What’s the big deal?”

“Shunichi is a politician, and takes some of the money to bribe other politicians. Basically, he controls the law.”

There it is. “Corruption. That’s fun. Gimme those.” Kuroo spreads the sheets out on the table, looking each of them over. 

“It’s just a normal assassination,” Yaku says dismissively. “The only notable things about the whole mission is the targets and finding their contacts so the org can deal with them too.”

“So why did they set me and Kenma together on this mission?” Kuroo complains. He dreads the idea of planning with Kenma, not wanting to think about how the other would go about it. 

“They’ve a bunch of guards. Untraceable poison and the least noticeable person in the whole org? Sounds like a good team.”

“Don’t act like you can’t do this.” Kuroo sighs, walking away from the table and flopping down on the couch. “That’s a good idea. Take my spot. You can deal with Kenma.”

“And when Nekomata catches wind of it, you’ll regret not taking the job.” Yaku sifts through the papers. “There’s a pretty big price on their heads.”

“Really.” Not even money would get Kuroo to willingly work with Kenma. He crossed his arms behind his head, sideways on the couch. Yaku reads out the number. Maybe enough money could persuade him. But he doesn’t react, knowing that Yaku is watching him, smug as all hell.

“Some goody-goody politician wants Shunichi gone, so proper laws can be made. Get your dirty feet off the couch.”

“How kind of him, hiring assassins in the name of justice. This is my couch, too. I can put my feet wherever.”

Yaku throws a small knife at him, barely missing his head. It lands in the wall behind him, adding another hole to the poor wall. Kuroo sits up a little straighter, scowling. “What the hell?”

“I’ll aim for your head next time. People sit there, asshole.”

“Fine, fine.” Kuroo swings his legs off and grabs the knife. He holds it out to Yaku. “Take it. Kai won’t be happy that you stabbed it again.” Not that it would be noticeable. Kuroo sighs. The assassins in this place are a little too keen on knife throwing.

“Throw it back,” Yaku says, a half smirk on his face.

Kuroo loosens his grip and allows the knife to slip from his hand, clattering to the ground. “I don’t take after all of you brutes.” He raises an eyebrow. “Unless you want me to try my hand at throwing it?” There’s a triumphant grin on Kuroo’s face as Yaku’s smile slips and he stomps over to pick up the blade. 

“I hate you. So much.” 

“Thanks.” Kuroo waves at him and Yaku scowls at him. 

He huffs in annoyance. “Have fun working with Kozume,” Yaku throws over his shoulder as he leaves. The reminder makes Kuroo wince, and his mood dours. A sigh of resignation leaves him. 

Kuroo wallows in silence for a few minutes before getting up. Before the official planning meeting tomorrow, he has a few poisons brewing in his lab that need to be checked on.  _ I’m never getting a break. _

* * *

“So?”

It’s been approximately twelve minutes into their meeting and it’s going horribly. As in, there’s only been dead silence, broken with the occasional chair squeak. Kenma scowls at the offending chair. Fukunaga probably did this on purpose. He  _ definitely  _ did. Thankfully, Fukunaga values his life, since Kenma’s chair is perfectly fine. Kuroo on the other hand, has been only getting more and more antsy, causing even more noise. In an effort to actually start the planning and get out of here, Kenma decided to ask the first question. Kuroo jolts when he asks.

“Uh.”

Internally, Kenma snorts. Out loud, he settles for saying, “Real coherent.” 

“Can you spend a minute not being so antagonistic?” Kuroo pinches his eyebrows together, rubbing his temples.  _ I’m causing a headache,  _ Kenma thinks with a bit of pride.

“I just spent,” he pauses, pretending to count on his fingers, “twelve whole minutes not being antagonistic.”

Kuroo sends him a glare, one that Kenma returns in full force. “You are such a pain.”

“And you aren’t?”

“I’m trying, you, on the other hand, clearly are not.”

This time, Kenma snorts out loud. “Tell yourself that. It’s not like I started the conversation. Pretending is fun, isn’t it?” It elicits the reaction he wants. Kuroo tenses, his hands balling into fists. Kenma smiles. “What are you gonna do?” He flicks his wrist, his butterfly knife falling securely into his palm. The light of the singular lamp in the room glints off the metal, flipping about with practiced ease. “You’re a chemist, Kuro. Not much of a match for a trained assassin.” His hand loosens, and it clatters to the table. The other wrist flicks, another, different knife in hand. Kenma levels his gaze at Kuroo, challenging. The other holds his gaze for a moment, his amber eyes hard. Something about them fascinates Kenma, fixing on him with a terrifying stillness. Those eyes slid off him, down to the knife laying in front of him. Eventually, something gives and Kuroo’s eyes close for a moment, opening with his usual calm.

“Whatever.” He sighs. “This isn’t going anywhere. I’m gonna get Kai here.” Kuroo grabs his phone, thumbing through his contacts before putting it to his ear. “Planning’s going shit. Can you come help out?” His voice is dull, some combination of exhaustion and exasperation weighing it down.

Kenma scowls and does the same, calling Fukunaga. Both of them arrive in a short time, as if they’d expected this. “You two really didn’t even try.” Kai shakes his head. “It’s been less than fifteen minutes.”

Kenma shrugs.

“You could’ve at least tried,” Fukunaga says mildly, moving to stand behind Kenma, leaning on his chair. 

“I tried, didn’t care enough to try harder,” he replies, slouching and opening a game on his phone. Fukunaga sighs but doesn’t scold him. Kenma appreciates Fukunaga for that. The informant never pushes him beyond what he wants, and it’s the only reason why Fukunaga has been his handler for the longest time. All the others had gotten fed up with him, or vice versa. But he leans down, murmuring in Kenma’s ear. 

“Don’t push him too far. I was watching.” Kenma blinks and doesn’t react outwardly, but he turns and gives Fukunaga a cold smile. His handler only blinks and looks across the table, where Kai and Kuroo had mirrored them. Kenma follows his lead, returning to facing forward as they begin talking. He doesn’t pay attention. His eyes are locked to his phone, trusting Fukunaga to make sure the plan won’t be unreasonable. So he lets them talk, zoning out and missing the way Kuroo’s eyes linger on him. 

* * *

He shouldn’t have trusted Fukunaga. “I what?”

“You’re going to be in a dress.” His handler repeats. Kenma should’ve expected this when he was brought to Alisa’s studio. She’s beside him, an excited glow on her face as she bounces slightly on the balls of her feet, hands clapped together. 

“I’ve always wanted to do your makeup.” She grins widely and Kenma faintly wonders why a girl like her is in this business. “You’re going to look great!”

There’s something in her gaze that makes Kenma unable to deny her, something familiar that he adamantly refuses to remember. “Why?” He asks. 

“Heteronormative seduction appears to be the only real way for you two to your target apart and away from too many prying eyes,” Fukunaga says. 

_ Fair enough _ . Kenma blinks and turns to the other person in the room. “Fine, but why is Lev here?”

“Well, you’re here to see my sister, so I thought I should come visit you too!”

“You want me to spar with you, don’t you?”

“No!” Lev protests and Kenma’s never heard such a blatant lie in his entire life. But there’s no use arguing with Lev, who’s stubbornness is unmatched in the entire organization. So he turns to Fukunaga again.

“Run me through the plan again,” he says. Everything that had been said went completely out of his brain when he heard his role. So Fukunaga explains it again, and Alisa takes over towards the end.

“I’m going to just take your measurements and figure out how I should style you.” Her voice is so bright that Kenma just resigns himself and cooperates. She spins him around to face the large mirror in her studio. “Do you want to redye your hair?” A hand lifts the strands of blonde, running fingers through them. It’s a remnant of a mission that he’d never bothered fixing.

“No thanks.” The time it took to dye, plus the dryness of his hair was way too much for Kenma to deal with again. Alisa hums.

“Alright, then we’ll do a wig, Maybe some soft auburn? A little longer than usual maybe. I want to do something fancy with your hair.” She rummages around in a cabinet along the wall, one of many, and pulls out a wig, untangling it gently with her hands. “Will this fit?” She murmurs to herself. “Asahi, could you get me a mannequin head?” From across the room, their designer looks up before bringing one over.

“What are you going for?” He asks as he places the mannequin on the counter. Alisa carefully lays the wig on it, smoothing it out as she says,

“Maybe some warm, dark colours? They’d suit him.”

“And for the style?”

“Nothing too long,” Kenma interjects. “I want to be able to move without worrying.”

It brings a thoughtful look to Alisa’s face. She glances at Asahi, who tilts his head. “Knee or cocktail length max, then.” They conclude. “We’ll figure out the rest later, Asahi. Thanks.” The two share a smile before Alisa turns back to Kenma, pulling his hair up so she can start styling the wig. It's a relatively low effort process for him, Kenma only having to tilt his head once in a while. Somewhere in the middle, Fukunaga gets a phone call, the caller loud enough to hear even from across the room. Tora, probably, and he excuses himself to go deal with whatever mess Tora’s cooked up. Kenma barely pays him any heed, just relaxing while Alisa works on the wig. It’s peaceful, even Lev staying quiet as time passes.

But he’d spoken too soon, as the man in question pipes up. “Hey, don’t you have to style Kenma-san and Kuroo-san together? They’re going to be working together, aren’t they?” Kenma stiffens and Alisa, whose hands are on his shoulders, likely notices but doesn’t say anything. 

“Nope. It doesn’t really matter how similar they look. I just have to make them look good.” Alisa pats Kenma’s shoulders once, before spinning him around. She leans down to examine the bangs, brushing them out. She straightens up, satisfied. “Alright, that looks nice. There’s going to be more adjustments later, but I’m running short on time. Up, head over there.” She points to a pedestal. “Measurement time.”

Kenma obliges. It’s quick, and before long, the siblings are waving goodbye to him as he heads out the door. But just his luck, on the way out, Kenma bumps into something. No,  _ someone _ . Someone tall. 

“Ah. Hi.” Kuroo says awkwardly. 

“Bye.” Kenma brushes past him, ignoring the stare that follows him down the hall. Faintly, he can hear Alisa calling for Kuroo, the pair of eyes he can feel on his back disappears and he releases a breath, relief coursing through him. Kenma heads upstairs, pretending that the prickling sensation where Kuroo’s gaze had been wasn’t there.

He’s not the most successful with that, and it doesn’t help that they have to head out after a few days to begin gathering intel. 

“A ball, huh. In this day and age?” Kuroo stretches as they stroll into a cafe to meet up with their contact. Kenma doesn’t reply, brushing at the wig’s bangs. They itch and keep falling out of place, though it’s less an issue with Alisa’s handiwork but rather the wind that buffeted them. After finding a table, they sit there and wait. Without his phone, Kenma distracts himself by fiddling with the bangs, trying to fix it now that they’re out of reach from the cold. When he finally manages to get it into place, Kuroo gives him a graceless elbow to the side. 

“Way to be subtle,” Kenma says, rubbing his side. 

“He’s here.” Kuroo lifts his hand and smiles widely, waving the man over like they were old friends. Loud enough for the surroundings to hear, he says, “It’s been a while, how have you been? I’d like you to meet my friend, Yazawa Aiko.”

Kenma pulls a soft, shy smile to his face, waving slightly. “Nice to meet you.”

Their contact returns the greeting, sliding into the chair casually. “Heard about you. So why’d you call me here?”

“Well,” Kuroo hesitates, looking away for a moment before launching into their cover story. It’s some emotional story that their resident dreamer, Tenma, had cooked up, filled with life’s ups and downs. Frankly, Kenma didn’t care about it, but he managed to stay attentive enough to give Kuroo a soft glance at particularly sad parts. Not that it was hard, since for all his faults, Kuroo is an engaging storyteller. Even their contact is taken in by his larger than life presence. He finishes softly, describing the current situation, a forlorn look on his face. Kenma wants to laugh, considering how at odds those puppy dog eyes were to his usual smug expression. It barely even looks like him, considering the impressive way Alisa had tamed the wild mess of black hair, replacing it with an awkward looking bowl cut, the epitome of an overeager young man. Even the shape of his jaw, softened by some miracle makeup job by Alisa. Of course, the contact can’t see through the disguise, and reaches out to pat Kuroo reassuringly on the shoulders. 

“Hey, don’t worry. I’ll pull some strings, whaddya say?”

“Really?” Kuroo is an amazing actor, with the way he perks up. For once, Kenma doesn’t have the urge to reach for his phone and immerse himself in a game. This is far more interesting.

“For a price, but yeah, no problem.”

“Anything, I’ll give you anything!” It’s a dangerous promise, but Kuroo makes the gamble, and Kenma doesn’t stop him. If he had won over the contact enough, then they wouldn’t have to do much. But if it went badly...

Their little mind game had worked, it seems, since the man’s face softens. “Don’t worry too much, just a few odd errands. I’ve a son about your age, with a pretty lady just like you,” he says, nodding at Kenma, “and you two are so similar, I don’t think I have it in me to make you do anything too harsh.”

As if on cue, they turn to each other, matching expressions of delight on their faces. “Do you hear that?” Kenma cringes internally at the sound of his voice, the obviously fake tone. He’s not as good of an actor as Kuroo, and for a moment, he worries that their contact didn’t fall for it. But Kuroo grins and clasps their hands together, excitement radiating from him.

_ It’s just an act _ , Kenma has to remind himself. The moment passes and Kuroo looks back over at the man, eyes wide. “So what do you want us to do?”

There’s a gentle smile on his face as he says, “Nothing much. Treat me to a coffee next week, will you? Tell me about your lives together.”

The surprise in their voices is real when they say in unison, “What?”

It brings a laugh out of the man, hearty and warm. “You heard me. Say, one pm, next Saturday? That’ll be after the ball, so you can tell me all about it.” In stunned silence, Kuroo and Kenma can only nod, their contact only laughing again. “Alright. Then I’ve really got to be on my way. See you two then.” There’s such kindness in his eyes when he gives them one last glance before leaving, Kenma leans back in his chair and sighs.

“Did that just happen?” Kuroo says.

“It seems you’re a little too good of an actor, Kuro.” Kenma sips at the tea they’d bought. It’s pretty much cool by now, but he finishes it anyway. 

“Is that a non-sarcastic comment I hear from you?”

“Savour it.”

“It was still a little backhanded,” Kuroo protests.

“Better than nothing.” Something occurs to Kenma in the silence after. “Hold on, we have to tell this guy about our lives.” 

Kuroo blinks. “What’s so bad about that? I just spent like half an hour doing that.”

“He thinks we’re a  _ couple _ , Kuro.”

“That… throws a wrench in things.”

Kenma sighs. “Let’s head back. We’re gonna need to talk to Tenma and the handlers.”

Kuroo groans.

* * *

An hour later, both of them are kicked out of the room as Kai, Fukunaga, and Tenma start planning their entire life story, starting with the details of their supposed love life. 

“‘Work on your couple’s chemistry’? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Kuroo complains on the bench outside the meeting room. Kenma doesn’t reply, instead focused on the console in his hands. “Would it kill you to give me a response?” He tilts hishead, trying to get a glimpse of the game.

“Apparently so,” he answers himself. Only silence follows and Kuroo lets it simmer for one minute, two, and finally he gives up. “Having a conversation with myself is kind of boring, you know?”

“Then don’t do that.”

“No conversation is worse!”

“Figure it out,” comes the deadpan reply.

Kuroo shifts in weight onto his right arm, lifting the other. “We’re supposed to be a couple.”

“That’s my job in a week. Right now, I’m off the clock.”

“Kenma!”

“Kuro.”

“You’re a pain, you know that?”

“So I’ve heard. I’ll be leaving now. Fukunaga will tell me the plans later.”

Frustration bubbles up again, as it does whenever Kuroo deals with Kenma. He grabs his wrist before Kenma can leave and decides he’ll speak Kenma’s favourite language. Video games.

“That boss. It flaps its wings twice before attacking. It’s hard to notice, but it should help.”

Kenma stills, fingers moving on the controls with neat precision before it makes a little noise, like trumpets, to signify his victory. Finally, he raises his head from the screen and turns to Kuroo. “How-“

“I may have binged that game for the entirety of last year,” Kuroo says sheepishly. 

“How many of the tricks do you know?” Kenma raises an eyebrow, staring him down. 

“Maybe all of them.”

There’s a hint of hesitation in Kenma’s gaze, but he blinks and it’s gone. Kenma makes a decision there, sits back down beside Kuroo and leans in, showing the screen to him. That’s where their handlers and Tenma find them hours later, after the meeting, both hunched over the tiny screen, Kuroo pointing out tips as Kenma plays, neither even noticing them. 

* * *

The ball draws closer and Kenma is again called to Alisa’s studio. The dress he gets is burgundy, long sleeves and knee length. The skirt flares out, and he can’t deny that it’s pretty. Comfortable as well. In the corner of his eye as Alisa is adjusting it, he can spot Kuroo’s suit, a dark blue, white detailing on the cuffs. He thinks about how they don’t match and wonders why he dislikes the idea. 

* * *

“Why the fuck is it so cold?” Kenma mutters, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Did Alisa not give you some sort of shawl?” Kuroo says, hands in his pockets. The wind is intense, and even Kuroo can feel a chill running through him. As for Kenma, even the long sleeves can’t protect him from the wind. The thin fabric of the skirt is whipping around and he looks miserable as he shakes his head. Kuroo sighs. “We can go get a scarf or something.”

Kenma shoots him a glare. “We’d be late. And Alisa would kill us if we got something extra. Ruins her expertly styled outfit, I guess.” Kenma’s right, but Kuroo was trying to help. He does  _ not _ deserve the hostility. He says as much, but the glare only intensifies. Kuroo backs off, valuing his life.

“Fine, let’s just head inside.”

The halls are grandesque, high ceilings, and marble everywhere. It was more of a museum than a home, and with the various ‘artifacts’ displayed, Kuroo figured it basically was one. But the reports had been right. The Watanabes had a guard around every corner, each armed to the teeth. He frowns.  _ This just had to be hard _ . Luckily, the invitations they have are real, and they breeze past security without an issue. Kuroo gives Kenma a once over, figuring that he’s got knives tucked somewhere. Not that anyone can tell, the sleeves and top are form fitting enough that the guards don’t even think to look past Kenma’s dainty exterior. He supposes it just makes their lives easier. The tiny tablets of poison are hidden as well, slipped into his sleeve and there’s not even a chance they can find it. But he gets a pat down anyway and they keep walking. 

Kuroo nods to a waiter who leads them to their spot. “Your drinks and appetizers will be here shortly,” the man says, and leaves. Kenma takes the time to scan the room, eyes sharp. 

“Easy there, you’re looking a little angry for a delicate maiden.” The dark look he receives in response is worth it. Their drinks arrive and Kuroo sniffs at the small cup in front of him. “Is this tea?”

“Mmhm. A type of fruit tea. Probably some sort of wild berry by the smell of it.” Kenma sips it once, and nods, as if to confirm his prediction.

“So you like tea, huh. I can’t stand it. Unless it’s like, iced tea. That’s good,” Kuroo says, entirely unprepared for the force of Kenma’s glare turned onto him. “What did I do?”

“Be tasteless,” Kenma mutters. 

“Excuse me?”

“You have the appetite of a five year old.”

“Hold on, just because I don’t like tea? Plenty of adults don’t like tea. It’s a whole, like, thing! Y’know, coffee or tea, age old debate.”

“Most adults don’t consider iced tea their drink of choice.”

“I am a  _ young  _ adult, thank you very much.”

Gold eyes give him a blank stare. “You’re really not helping your case here.” Kuroo does his best to meet Kenma’s gaze, but eventually he averts his eyes, looking at the leaves swirling around in the bottom of his cup instead.

“Do you do those tea leaf predictions?”

“I drink tea because it’s good, Kuro, not because I want to know my future.”

“You could do both.”

“Or I could be sensible, considering my job is not fortune-telling.”

“Who knows, you could need it for a mission or something.”

Kenma snorts. “If that comes up on a job, I’m getting Fukunaga fired.”

“Can you do that?”

“Well, yeah. Have you never changed handlers?”

Kuroo scratches his face sheepishly. He thinks back to his earliest days on the job. “I had one, before Kai. The guy left, and I mean, Kai scares me too much for me to kick him out.” It was more that Kai had never inconvenienced him in a way that he’d be uncomfortable with, and they’d never had issues. Yaku and Kai also got along easily, and as a pair they had preferred Kai. Without their handler to mediate, Kuroo didn’t know if he and Yaku would even be partners today. His first partnership had a lax handler and- Kuroo looked across the table at Kenma, who was watching the people around them. It hadn’t gone well. But Kai is the best handler he’s had, and will have for a while.

“Fukunaga is just the only one who gets how me and Tora wanna work. So that’s really all there is to it.” Kenma says absently. His voice is far off, thinking about his own partner and handler, likely. After a quiet moment, he continues, “I was gonna take a job with Tora. Right before Nekomata assigned me this one. He’s been busy working with someone from the Miyagi branch, so this was our first chance in a while. I had one all picked out too. Low profile, with none of this,” he waves a hand at their surroundings, “complicated stuff.” There’s a wistfulness to his voice that Kuroo realizes is likely the cause of Kenma’s initial animosity towards the mission.

“Sorry.”

“For what? Didn’t realize Nekomata was here beside me.”

“I mean-“ Kenma cuts him off with a dismissive hand. 

“Don’t. I can’t handle you being sappy, it’s weird.”

“Sappy?” Kuroo says, incredulous.

“Do you want me to say caring?”

“Ok, no,” he admits. Kenma sips his tea, hiding a smile. They observe the place in silence, Kuroo’s own eyes being drawn towards Kenma's eyes and the way they flick about. They’re a brilliant gold, only further emphasized by the warm lighting in the dining hall. “We really should’ve got you contacts."

Kenma shakes his head. “I hate those.”

“You have rather recognizable eyes, Kenma, I’d hope you get used to them.”

“No one ever looks me in the eye, it’ll be fine.” Kuroo tries to argue, but Kenma holds up a finger, shushing him again. “Food’s here, it doesn’t matter.”

“Kenma!” Kuroo attempts, but the plate is in front of him and it smells amazing. Maybe the issue could wait. There’s something a little more pressing. He’s about to dig in, before he remembers that this is not his favourite hole-in-the-wall restaurant and is a high society dinner. Kuroo straightens and decides to eat in reserved, measured bites, agonizing as it is. Across the table, Kenma seems to be doing that already, but he’s always had the appetite of a bird so it isn’t all that surprising. Far too soon, Kuroo finishes, but Kenma’s plate is a little over half done before he pushes it away. Eyes lighting up, Kuroo grins. “Mind passing that over here?”

“You eat too much.” Kenma wrinkles his nose, but slides it over to Kuroo regardless. 

“I eat a healthy amount for an adult male,” he mumbles around the mouthful of food. The expression of disgust on Kenma’s face only worsens.

“Don’t talk to me if you’re eating like that.”

“Like what?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Wait, don’t go.” To his surprise, Kenma actually stops and sits back down.

“Do you lack table manners entirely?” Kenma leans back and stares off into the distance. There’s a small band on the stage, soft jazz floating through the room. Aside from that, the only sounds are the clinking of the other patrons and their conversations.

“I have manners, I just don’t care.”

“Nice work ethic.”

“My work ethic is fine,” Kuroo says dismissively.

Kenma raises an eyebrow. “We’re on a job where we’re trying to blend in with the high class and you’re eating like you’re in a McDonald’s.”

“We are on a job where we are middle class businessmen, and not socialites. It’s perfectly acceptable to be a little messy.”

“A little.” 

Kuroo sits up a little straighter. “Only a little!”

“Sure, Kuro.” 

There’s an awfully familiar fondness in the way Kenma says his name, and it throws Kuroo’s brain back to some repressed memory, of a time when there was more laughter than barbs, and something twists inside him. But he’s saved from having to respond when the music stops and the hosts of the ball get on stage. “Look who it is,” Kuroo says.

The Watanabe couple stand together, holding a mic. “Welcome,” Hanabi says, smiling wide. “I hope you’re enjoying your meals, and I’m sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to thank you all for coming, and donating to our foundation.” She flashes a grin at her husband and Kuroo clenches his fist under the table. “Later tonight, our band will amp up the music and we’ll all get to mingle, I hope you enjoy it and I’m looking forward to meeting you all! Thank you!” With a short bow, she gets ushered off the stage to polite applause, the band beginning to play again.

“Are you done yet?” Kenma smooths out his dress, looking for something to do. He fidgets with his fingers slightly, something Kuroo recognizes as him getting antsy. Nearly on instinct, he places his hand on Kenma’s shoulder.  “There’s still dessert.” He offers a soft smile. “Don’t worry too much."

His hands still, but Kenma’s leg under the table keeps tapping. Under Kuroo’s hand, the shoulder relaxes slightly. “I don’t like missions like this,” Kenma admits.

“I kn- It’s not your type of thing, right?” Kuroo barely catches himself, but Kenma doesn’t notice, too far in his thoughts.

“I’m not a good actor.”

“We convinced the contact completely fine.”

“ _ You  _ convinced him. I was there for like,” Kenma laughs slightly, “moral support.”

“You didn’t give it away, isn’t that enough?”

“Unless you’ve conveniently forgotten, the second half of this job is to go convince the targets to spirit us away to some private place.”

“You’ve never failed before.”

“Always a first for everything.”

“Nah,” Kuroo says, leaning back in his chair, “you’re master assassin Kozume Kenma, you don’t fail missions.”

There’s a subtle twist of Kenma’s lips and he shoots Kuroo an indecipherable look. A moment hangs in between them, where Kuroo expects a reply, but a waiter sweeps by, desserts in hand, and gold eyes sparkle at the sweets. Kenma looks entirely too happy when the little slice of cake is placed in front of him. 

“You still have your sweet tooth, huh?” Kuroo comments, resting his chin on his hand. “Ruthless killer, felled by a cookie.”

“If I’m going down, it’s ‘cause Nekomata makes me be a sniper,” he says, muffled by the cake.

“You still can’t shoot?”

Kenma frowns. “I can shoot fine, I just don't. Sniper rifles are too heavy and a pain to use. Plus it’s hard to trust a gun when you don’t know when you’ll be out of bullets.” There’s a scowl on his face at the thought, but it comes off as mildly adorable, Kuroo thinks. His cheeks are puffed slightly with the food in his mouth.

“I can teach you, Yaku taught me a decent amount about guns.”

“My aim may suck, but I’m not  _ that  _ bad. I don’t need help from you.”

“Excuse me, you seem to think I’m a non-combatant, I am absolutely capable of fighting.”

“Sure, but I’m still better than you.”

Kuroo considers arguing, but while he’s stubborn, Kenma is twice as bad. He glances around, realizing that everyone around them is getting up, waiters sweeping through the dining hall. “So what?” He stands, holding a hand out for Kenma, who takes it after a moment of hesitation. “There’s still many things that I’m far better at than you.”

“Like what?”

“Like ways to kill a man.”

“I don't think so.” Kenma waves a hand at him, a flash of silver appearing and disappearing to demonstrate. Kuroo has to do a double-take and whatever clever reply about his poisons he had thought up falters in his throat. He stops in his tracks, staring at Kenma, who pauses in turn. 

“The hell’d you get that from? Where can you even hide a knife in that dress?” The burgundy fabric is mostly form fitting, save for the skirt, which flares out, swaying as Kenma walks. But as Kuroo looks him up and down, there’s not even a bump out of place for Kenma to hide a blade. The sleeve was smooth, no sign of the thin metal. 

“Disappointing, that the supposed top agent can’t even spot a hidden weapon. Guess I’m just better than you at this.” Kenma brushes past as Kuroo’s eyes are still locked on him. His face is the same neutral, but there’s a glimmer of satisfaction that flickers in his eyes as his hand taps Kuroo’s shoulder once, where he can feel the hidden knife pricking at his suit. It takes a moment, but Kuroo breaks out of his reverie and with a few long strides, catches up to Kenma and intertwines their arms. 

“Don’t worry,  _ darling _ ,” Kuroo says, throwing an overly dramatic tone into his voice. He can see the way Kenma cringes. “I’m certainly better at dancing than you.” With a few tugs, Kuroo spins Kenma around, the skirt of his dress flaring. It’s a nice dress, Kuroo thinks. He’ll have to compliment Alisa on her handiwork. But they’re off, waltzing across the ballroom. 

“Dancing isn’t a trait I’d call part of being an agent,” Kenma murmurs.

“It’s called espionage, my dear Kenma.” Kuroo croons. 

“And yet, I’ve made it this far without learning it.” 

“You say that, but you’re a fine dancer.” 

Kenma twirled and Kuroo caught him, pausing just long enough for Kenma to say, “I’m a fast learner.”

Kuroo has nothing to say in reply and he can’t bring himself to meet Kenma’s eyes. So instead, he focuses on the room. In the corner of his eye, he can see their targets. “Time to end this night, I guess. Eleven o’clock.”

Kenma follows his gaze when they turn and nods. The song was ending as they swung apart, switching partners, and again with the next song, until finally, Kuroo finds himself face to face with Watanabe Hanabi. She’s pretty enough up close, but her stylist clearly lacked Alisa’s skill. The white dress isn’t nearly as nice as Kenma’s, and even the drab wig Kenma was wearing had more life. But Kuroo ignores that, letting himself slip into the persona of the hopeful businessman looking to make connections.

“May I have this dance?” He smiles, eyes shining. She nods, cheeks reddening and lets herself be swept up in the music, Kuroo taking her arm. Behind him, Kenma curtsies to their other target and while they don’t dance, Kenma lets Shunichi curl an arm around his waist. 

They lean close together, the target pointing around the room, speaking into Kenma’s ear. Annoyance floods Kuroo.  _ I can’t let Kenma beat me to getting information _ , he thinks. Kenma’s smiling at the man, golden eyes twinkling. They slide over to meet Kuroo’s gaze, and the smile turns a little sharper.

Kuroo ignores the taunt, instead turning to Hanabi. Flashing a quick grin, he softly says, “I have to admit to you, my lady, I’ve never been to a dance this elaborate.”

“Oh, really?” She raises a hand to his face, cupping his cheek fondly.

“Unfortunately, it’s true. I’m a bit out of my element, you see.” Kuroo offers her a wink, turning his charm up. “But unless I misheard, you’re the wonderful hostess who organized this?”

Her eyebrows lift with careful surprise. “And how did you find that out?”

“Rumours, my lady. They said that the person who organized this dance is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Your speech earlier helped. 

His words have the expected effect. She giggles, bringing her hand to her mouth. “Well, I suppose I could take this chance to give you a grand tour.”

Kuroo lets his demeanour shift. “I came here hoping to make some connections for my family and business,” he admitted, tilting his head to imitate bashfulness. “Unfortunately, I didn’t expect to see so many unfamiliar faces.”

“Luckily for you, dear, I happen to know all of them. Perhaps later, I could take you around to meet these lovely people.”

“Would you?”

“Of course. But for now, shall we dance?”

The lively music calls them, and Kuroo lets himself move along with Hanabi.  _ Be led, don’t lead. Make just enough mistakes _ . All the rules he’d learned years ago are instinctual as Hanabi twirls and laughs. 

Song after song passes, and Kuroo patiently waits for her to get tired. Eventually, a slow dance comes to an end, and Hanabi tugs on his arm. They share a smile, and Hanabi leads him off the dance floor, and through a door off to the side. The halls are twisting, a complicated maze she clearly knows well, but Kuroo memorizes it to the best of his ability under the guise of wonder. 

“You have a beautiful home, Watanabe-san.”  _ If not for the guards _ . There were at least four in every hallway, and he could see how this mission called for two of the top assassins. But Kuroo turned his eyes forward, letting his walk sway the slightest bit. 

“I’m glad you like it, but you haven’t seen anything yet,” she purrs. They turn a corner and Hanabi brings him into a large room at the end of the hall. She waves to the guards. “He’s safe.” The doors open, and Kuroo has to take a moment to look at it all. The room is grandiose, in a manner that’s almost garish. Gold drapery, a massive super-king bed with matching sheets. The pillows are plumped up high and with a glance to Hanabi, it seemed like they would swallow her whole. She strides over the marble flooring, heels clicking, over to a vanity, with a mirror that’s twice the size of any Kuroo's ever seen before. There’s a display of jewels, necklaces with pendants each bigger than the next. 

_ Overcompensating _ , Kuroo thinks absentmindedly as he fiddles with the mechanism on his cufflinks, pressing lightly as a small device pops off. He adjusts his hold on it, and joins Hanabi by the vanity, brushing a hand over her shoulder and depositing it. “You look amazing,” Kuroo says, as the device sinks in, injecting the poison. It’s a personal creation of his, incredibly potent and within moments, Hanabi is swaying on her feet.

“Oh, I feel a bit faint. Would you lead me to my bed, sweet?”

Kuroo bows, taking her hand and supporting her, letting her sink into the plush duvet and pillows. “I’ll go get some water.” He walks just out of view, waiting to a count of three, two, one, and when he checks back, Hanabi is fast asleep.

“Done.”

“Took you long enough.” Kuroo doesn’t jump at the voice, refusing to give Kenma that pleasure. He’s sitting on the railing of the balcony, the pair of guards outside passed out. The swinging of his legs is childish, relaxed.

“At least I got it done,” he grumbles and asks. “Are they dead?” 

Kenma snorts, stalking past him to take a closer look at Hanabi. “No, I’m not dumb enough to have extra casualties.” Kuroo stares at him as he passes, not a hair out of place. That didn’t seem like Kenma’s M.O.

“How’d you get his guard down?”

“It was simple enough. Same way you did.” Kenma peers around the room. “This place is awful.”

Some ugly emotion rears its head at the thought of Kenma with Shunichi. “Is that so.” Kuroo didn’t mean to sound so annoyed, but Kenma bristles all the same, defenses up. He storms toward Kuroo, jabbing a finger into his chest.

“Don’t look down on me for doing the same as you, hypocrite,” Kenma snaps. “At least I don’t spend half the night dancing instead of doing our job. Hurry up.” 

Kuroo has nothing to say, even his pride knowing he was in the wrong. Cowed, he pulls out a syringe, a slower acting, but lethal dosage in the chamber. He carefully injects the poison and grabs a small pill nestled in his cuff. It’ll delay the poison for now, possibly shifting the blame to the poor doctor that comes to tend her. But if he'd read the files right, their private doctor isn’t the greatest person either. Finished, Kuroo turns to Kenma, who is no longer in the room. With half a sigh, he heads out to the balcony and looks up. Kenma is there, curled up against the cold. With a moment to brace himself, Kuroo quietly says, “Come down. Let’s go home.

Kenma says nothing as he leaps down, landing silently. Combined with Kenma’s soundless departure earlier, Kuroo again realizes the caliber of assassin he’s working with. But he doesn’t get the time to mull over that, as Kenma is already grabbing the rope he used to climb up and swinging down off the balcony, It takes all that he can do just to keep up with Kenma’s nimble movements. His landing isn’t nearly as graceful but luckily Kenma had already taken out the guards nearby. Kenma!”

There’s the slightest glance behind him, but Kenma keeps running, They make it back to headquarters with little to no interference, and Kuroo loses Kenma as he slips back to the dorms, and Kuroo is left staring at nothing. He grumbles under his breath before taking off his suit jacket, throwing it over a nearby chair and slumping down. 

“DId you fail?” Kai is watching him, hunched over a pile of papers in their common room. "You're looking pretty gloomy." He barely gives him a glance.

“I  _ don’t fail _ , Kai. Things just went sideways in another way.” 

“With Kenma? Considering how much you hate him, I’m surprised it even affects you.” The mirth in his voice causes Kuroo to look up. 

“Kai, not the time.”

“Okay, okay. Get some rest, then. Talk tomorrow.” Kai offers him a smile, getting up and patting his shoulder reassuringly. 

“Thanks.” Kuroo watches Kai leave, waving lazily, before sighing, walking over to the elevator. The ride up to his floor is punctuated only by the soft jazz that comes through the speakers, but Kuroo doesn’t mind, not wanting to be alone with his thoughts. Something had been familiar, easy between them tonight, unlike the last few years, and he’d ruined it all with a single fit of jealousy over something that didn’t matter. In his room, as hard as he tries to sleep, it refuses to come to him. Instead, burgundy and a soft voice float in his head.  _ Stupid, _ he thinks,  _ you’re so stupid. _

* * *

“Can you mourn the loss of something you never had?” Kuroo asks over breakfast the next day. He’s halfway through some explanation and as usual, Kai and Yaku are only half listening to Kuroo. 

Without looking up from his phone screen, Yaku says, “Sure. I mean, you do it every day with your brain.”

Kuroo sits up straighter, affronted. “I’ll have you know, I have a p-“

“PhD in some stupid science, yeah, you’ve said so many times, doc.” Yaku examines the apple in his hand, before grinning. “Hey, is that rumour true? 

“What rumour?”

“The one about an apple a day.” Yaku chucks it at Kuroo’s head, hitting him directly in the centre of his forehead. At least, it would have, if Kai’s hand hadn’t shot out, catching it mere centimetres from Kuroo’s face. He lowers his hand and the apple down to the table, a disappointed look on his face.

“Yaku.”

“I wanted to see if it would keep him away!” Yaku protests, as if that was any better. Kai only sighs, giving up on stopping them. There’s deep bags under his eyes, and Kuroo wonders how much work he had. He puts that aside, cause Yaku is currently smirking at him, daring Kuroo to fight back. So he does.

“It won’t,” Kuroo chimes in, feeling childish. “If anything, you’ve made it worse, cause I’m gonna follow you around aaaaaaallll day for that!” As a final touch, Kuroo sticks out his tongue and returns to pushing around the food in his bowl. He can imagine the vein nearly popping in Yaku’s forehead.  _ I won this round,  _ he thinks. But because Yaku enjoys being a massive thorn in Kuroo’s side, he tilts his head, chin propped up by his hand.

“Hey Kuroo, have you ever met someone who’s the definition of oblivious?”

“The hell do you mean?”

“Thought so.” 

Kuroo makes a noise somewhere in between confusion and anger, and Yaku appears satisfied, saying nothing else. He offers Kuroo a sly grin, confusing as all hell, before pushing himself up. 

“I have to go train Lev, he's been begging all week. Lemme know if this idiot manages a breakthrough,” Yaku says to Kai, jabbing a thumb in Kuroo’s direction. With a last lazy wave, he grabs his bowl and strides away.

“Awful bold for someone who’s the height of a ten year old,” Kuroo mutters.

Amusement dances in Kai’s voice as he says, “Might not wanna let him hear you say that. You’re not the greatest in hand to hand combat, and it’s in my best interest to keep you alive.”

“I can fight fine!” Kuroo says defensively. “I  _ am _ an assassin, y’know. It seems everyone here has forgotten that.”

“Compared to a normal person, yeah. We’re talking about Yaku here.”

“And we all know he’s not a normal person.” There’s half a pout on Kuroo’s face as he pokes at the bowl. Kai glances over at him.

“You know, you should really just give up on your breakfast. I don’t think you’ll get any better at fighting if you practice on congee.”

“Not you too.”

“What can I say? You’re easy to bully.”

“Kai!”

His friend and handler laughs, relaxed and warm. “You spend too much time thinking, Kuroo.” Kai pushes himself up, grabbing the empty bowl. “I gotta go too, don’t get into trouble without me.”

“You make it sound like I’m some child.” When Kai doesn’t reply, only tilting his head with amusement, Kuroo scowls at him. “What do you and Yaku even have to do, aren’t you guys supposed to work with  _ me _ ?”

“Not everyone takes three days off after missions.” Kai grins at him before dropping off his dishes to be washed and leaving. Not for the first time, Kuroo finds himself alone again. The events of yesterday replay in his head for the umpteenth time. He’s been thinking it over, moment by moment, as if he could see where he went wrong. But he already knows where. Stupid impulses, stupid jealousy over something that wasn’t even his. 

“I can’t keep wasting my time like this,” Kuroo declares to no one in particular. He stands, putting away the bowls and cutlery before heading down to the one place where his thoughts were never too loud. His lab.

Maybe it was his fascination with chemistry. Maybe it was his need to always be busy. But when he was in his lab, days could pass in minutes, and he’s still got more to do. Kuroo places a careful drop of a new chemical onto a leaf, watching. The camera’s rolling, so everything about this moment doesn’t need to be memorized, but Kuroo watches it like he needs to burn it into his brain. Beside it, the same is happening, but the chemical was altered. He notes down everything different, and everything the same, and moves onto the next experiment. Somewhere throughout the day, people bring him lunch and dinner, but he barely regards it, instead deciding that his work was far more important. Day turns to night, and Kuroo’s working by the light of his lamp, too lazy to walk across the room. He scribbles down notes, theorizing about something or other, when a figure flashes past his window. Kuroo blinks. 

_ This is the second floor. _ So he gets up, opening the window and peering out. There’s a distinctly familiar figure passing by. “Kenma.” The name falls from his lips before he even realizes that he said it. And some dumb instinct in his head, something he should’ve learned not to trust, it tells him,  _ chase after him.  _

Kuroo finds himself following Kenma, barely even capable of keeping up. Not for lack of effort, Kuroo is pretty in shape, considering his job, but Kenma moves with lightning efficiency. Despite the gap in speed, it’s easier to follow, since it was the middle of the night and Kenma was the only person jumping from roof to roof. Kuroo lags far behind but never loses sight of him. Until Kenma drops down into an alley. “What are you doing, Kenma,” Kuroo mutters, trying to hurry up. 

Barely any time passes between when Kenma disappears from sight and when Kuroo drops down from the roof and lands on the dumpster. Just as he jumps off, Kenma ducks under the last man’s arm and drives an elbow into his side. The man collapses, Kuroo ending up beside him. “Are you okay?”

Kenma stares him down, reaching for one of his fallen daggers and wiping the edge on his sweater. It’s like a threat, and Kuroo instinctively backs up a step. He says nothing, only picking up the other dagger, as well as the set of throwing knives, cleaning them all methodically. “Kenma,” Kuroo repeats, trying to keep desperation from creeping into his voice. 

“What.”

“You know what.” Kuroo gets a stink-eye for his efforts, and he sighs. “Why?”

Gold eyes flick up to him, sharp and annoyed. “They were a threat to the organization. I neutralized them.” 

“You  _ killed  _ them.”

“What exactly do you think our jobs are?” Kenma snaps. “Plus, some of them aren’t even dead.” He toes at the nearest man, who groans and tries to move, but ends up failing and falling still. Kuroo peers at him, knowing that he’d only taken an elbow to the ribs. How did it do that much damage? Kenma is bony, and his elbows are likely sharp as all hell, but really? He blinks.  _ That’s beside the point, Tetsurou. _

“Killing targets.”

“They work for the Watanabes. Good enough.”

“Good enough?” Kuroo’s pissed. “Is it that easy for you? Taking lives like it doesn’t matter? I piss you off, and you go around killing people?” There’s a moment after he finishes talking where Kenma freezes. It’s terrifying, the stillness. He’s still holding a razor sharp knife in his hand.

“Look at you.” Kenma hurls the knife, close enough to Kuroo’s face that it nicks his cheek as he barely dodges in time. It plants squarely in the wall. “Such a good  _ assassin. _ You’re going to get in my face for murder? What did you do yesterday? What did you do a week ago?” He slams his fist against the dumpster, causing Kuroo to flinch. “Don’t even try to lecture me.”

“Kenma-”

“Don’t.” Kenma’s head is lowered, his hair falling around to cover his eyes. He laughs once, cold and bitter. “I don’t even know why I tried to help you out.”

“Help me?” Kuroo takes a step forward, as if getting closer to Kenma would get him the answers. But there’s no response. Kenma brushes past him, heading out into the streets like nothing had happened. Jamming his hand into his pocket, Kenma pulls out his phone.

“Kiyoko-san, can you send the cleanup crew to my location? There’s some people to deal with.” There’s a beat before he says, “Thanks.” Kuroo is left standing there, for the second time in a day, as Kenma turns the corner and disappears. 

_ No. _

He won’t let him leave like this again. Kuroo is an asshole, but he’s not gonna stand around and not resolve it. “Kenma,” he calls, jogging to catch up.

Kenma is ignoring him, stalking away. “Kenma, you can’t just leave like this, you’ll get caught.”

“Who cares. It doesn’t matter to me. Don’t you hate me? What does it mean to you? All the better if I get caught,” Kenma sneers the last part, sharp and annoyed.

“You get caught and you risk the entire org. It matters to Nekomata.”  _ It matters to me, too.  _ The thought is entirely unprompted and Kuroo reels internally. What? Did he just think that? As he’s thinking, Kenma gets further away. With one large step, Kuroo reaches out, grabbing his wrist. “Kenma,  _ stop. _ ”

He whirls on Kuroo, fury radiating off his small frame. “What do you think-“

“Please.” 

Kenma stops short, his facade momentarily breaking as gold eyes flicker with a familiar emotion. But his chin lifts, and Kuroo can see it locking back in place. “Do you really think that’ll work?”

“Please,” Kuroo repeats.

And it does. Kenma stares at him for two long seconds, before finally striding back to the alley. “You have until the cleanup crew gets here. Talk, do whatever dumb charisma thing you like to do.” Kuroo follows him, feeling much like a lost puppy as Kenma hops up onto the dumpster and sits down on the lid. He tugs the hood of his red sweater over his head and curls up, phone in hand.

There’s an awkward silence before Kuroo clears his throat. “I.. want to apologize. For what I said during the mission. I didn’t mean it, it just slipped out. I swear, I don’t look down on you. You’re incredibly capable and resourceful. I mean, you just took down an entire group of men with just your knives.” Kuroo gestures to the mess around them. He pauses, gauging Kenma’s response. He’s looking up, eyes flicking between his phone and Kuroo. There’s no visible annoyance in his face any longer so Kuroo takes it as a good sign. Before he can continue, though, Kenma raises an eyebrow.

“Are you saying you can’t do the same?”

His competitive streak surges and Kuroo wants to retort back, though when he realizes that Kenma is egging him on, he calms down. Kenma won’t win today. Instead, Kuroo smoothly says, “We both know my capabilities. But this is about you. I’m genuinely sorry. I didn’t mean to- I just- I don’t know why I said that. I really don’t.” He should’ve planned this out far more, but with Kenma in front of him, his brain is blank. He should’ve prepared for this. He  _ wanted _ to prepare for this. Normally, Kuroo isn’t this impulsive, he sits down and thinks things through. But he saw Kenma flying past his window, and every cell in his body screamed  _ chase after him. _ So Kuroo holds out whatever tiny olive branch he can throw together and hopes.

Kenma gives him a long, slow look, but the guardedness is gone. “Fine. This changes nothing.”

Relief floods him. At least Kuroo had his forgiveness. “Yeah, that’s okay. I just felt really bad-”

“That’s enough.” Kenma cuts him off, eyes returning to his screen. Kiyoko and her team arrive, and they get to work. Kuroo’s never watched them do their thing before, and he’s not about to. He leaps up onto the dumpster beside Kenma with a bang before jumping up again to haul himself over the ledge of the window.  _ Who designs a window looking into an alley? _ Kuroo thinks momentarily before reaching up again, climbing up to the roof. It’s a clear night, and he breathes a little easier now, away from the bodies and the guilt on his chest weighing less now. 

“You’re so noisy.” A voice comes from below him, Kenma swinging himself up onto the rooftop as well.

“One of us works in poison, the other in more,” Kuroo pauses, “physical work.”

“You were trained under Nekomata. He’d be disappointed.”

“Believe me, I get enough grief from Yaku. I don’t need it from you.”

“No, you do.” Kenma stretches. “You’re bad enough as is.”

“I take offense to that.”

“Good.” 

And there’s silence. It’s not the same as before, changed by the time apart and the past that hangs between them, but it’s comfortable. Kuroo is distinctly aware of Kenma's presence, of the warmth he radiates. He gives him half a glance as Kiyoko and her team finish, waving to them as they slowly disperse into the streets. Some more time passes, both of them simply listening to the sounds of the city before Kenma gets up. 

"Let's go home," Kenma says.

"Sure." 

“Can you keep up?” He throws a cheeky look over his shoulder.

“Hey!” Kuroo says, but Kenma is already sprinting off, leaping onto the nearest building. “Kenma!” 

* * *

“Tell me why one of our poor trainees had to tell me that he saw you jumping out of the window yesterday?”

Kuroo winces. “People saw that?” They’re lazing around in the common room, Yaku thumbing through pages of commissions as they search for their next job. 

“Considering you’re directly above their locker room? Yeah, people saw.” There’s a beat before Yaku continues. “From what I’ve heard, you had quite the undignified landing.”

“That’s false and you know it.”

“Sure, sure. Gimme some,” he says, referring to the can of chips Kuroo has. He holds out a few sheets. “These look good.”

Kuroo takes them, humming lowly. “Mmhm.”

“Gimme the chips, dickwad.” Without looking, Kuroo throws the whole (closed) can at him, Yaku barely even catching it.

“Where, exactly, were you aiming?” 

“At your head.” He doesn’t look at Yaku, absentmindedly skimming through the contents of the commissions Yaku handed to him.

“That was nearly out of my reach.”

“Is your head not that big? I assumed it was, with all that ego,” Kuroo says, blinking up innocently at Yaku, who promptly throws a pillow at him. He makes a garbled noise as it slams him squarely in the face. 

Satisfied, Yaku drops back down onto his side, watching Kuroo. “What’s your deal with Kozume, anyway?”

“What do you mean?” Kuroo replies, rubbing his nose. 

“You tell everyone and their mother that you hate him, you mooned over him for the entirety of your mission, you got jealous when you thought he seduced your target, and from what I heard, you literally jumped out of a window to chase him down. Make up your mind, maybe?” 

“That-“ Kuroo fumbles around for words. “That’s not true.” 

“Oh really,” Yaku says, voice dry. He rolls onto his back before raising his voice. “Kai, mind confirming?”

“Yaku isn’t wrong,” comes the faint response. 

“You’re supposed to be on my side, Kai!” Kuroo complains.

“I’m on the side of truth.” And with that, Yaku turns back to him, triumphant.

“So?”

“Fine, fine. Me and Kenma, we grew up together. Orphans, both of us. Nekomata basically picked us up off the street and raised us.” There’s a wistfulness to his voice, thinking about their childhood. “He let us train if we wanted and Kenma took to it like a fish to water. When we got old enough, he offered us a place in the org. Kenma accepted, and so did I. He was my first partner.”

“So I’m the replacement?”

“No, more like I swapped over to you guys. The handler left, Kenma and I fought over some stuff, and we stopped working together. I was teamless, so Nekomata assigned me to you.”

“Makes sense,” Yaku hums. “What was it like, working with him? Was it interesting? I’ve never seen the guy express any emotion other than mild distaste.”

“It was.. a lot of fun. He’s pretty obvious about his dislikes, though. I helped him develop a lot of the poisons he uses now. He taught me a lot about fighting, too. We were inseparable.”

“Gross.”

Kuroo splutters. “What- why?”

“You have the softest, cheesiest look on your face and it’s disgusting to see.”

“Oh, do emotions scare you? Our big, spooky demon Morisuke-kun is afraid of emotions?” Kuroo makes a kissy face, pushing closer to Yaku as the shorter shrieks and shoves him off.

“Get my name out of your filthy mouth.”

“It’s not filthy, it just wants to express emotion,” he drawls, still moving towards Yaku as he dodged away.

“Kuroo, leave him alone, Yaku’s already reaching for his knife.” Kai is ever the wise, turning the corner as Yaku’s hand drifts toward the blade safely sheathed in his belt. Instantly, Kuroo backs off. Growing up around assassins makes you learn very quickly when to back off and not get your hand cut off. Their handler sits down with a book and very nonchalantly says, “Kuroo, I think you may like him.”

Kuroo thinks he’s having a fever dream. “What.”

“You got irrationally jealous at the idea of Kenma seducing someone.”

“That’s because he was my friend and even if I hate him, he deserves better than that lying politician!” Kuroo protests. 

Yaku adds in his always helpful input, “He was working, not genuinely trying to get in the guy’s pants.”

“Yaku’s right, but then who does Kenma deserve?”

“Someone like-“ His lips are already halfway done forming the beginning of “me” before Kuroo realizes and shuts up.

“You got him,” Yaku says. “You actually got him to shut up.” He waves a hand in Kuroo’s face that goes ignored. 

“Kuroo?”

“Just. Give me a moment.” He stands and stumbles away from them, dropping into a chair in the corner of the room. His brain is reeling.  _ Think, Tetsurou, think. I  _ like  _ Kenma _ ? It sounds so right. Something had confused him, every time he revisited the piles of memories he had of the many, many years he spent with Kenma. Is that it? 

Finding Kenma as a kid, the two of them huddled in an alley where Nekomata found them. The cheerful, relaxed childhood, where Kenma discovered his love for games and Kuroo for science. Meeting Ukai’s team, and the four children under his care. The irritating tugging of his heart when Kenma and Hinata talked. Growing older, facing the terrifying prospect of their two choices of normalcy or family. Kenma’s near instant decision, and Kuroo’s to follow him. Training, training, more training. Their first real mission. Letting Kenma finish them off and averting his eyes to the bloodshed. Kenma telling him he’d be sleeping over in Hinata’s room, and his self control, far better than currently, forcing him to ignore the way he wanted to scream and instead grinning and waving Kenma away to his sleepover. And maybe it was the simmering jealousy, maybe it was something else. Bad information, their deteriorating teamwork, maybe a wrong step somewhere, but it was fraying, and fraying. Eventually, it snapped. Kuroo remembers the way he screamed as the unknown men wrested him away from Kenma.

Kuroo could still feel the way the chains bit into his wrists and the chill they brought to his bones. But nothing could compare to the feeling he had when Kenma slammed through doors of the warehouse with a fury so potent that Kuroo could barely recognize him. In his hands was a young man, barely older than the two of them, struggling futilely against Kenma’s hold. The sharp edge of a knife was shoved against his neck when Kenma said softly, “A hostage for a hostage. Give Kuro to me and this one lives.”

No one moved. The man who had seemed like he was in charge had paled at the sight of Kenma and the boy who was likely his son. Behind his back, the man made a hand motion, and the guard nearest Kuroo levelled his gun at him. The cold steel pressed into his temple and Kuroo forgot how to breathe.

“Your friend will die,” the man sneered, “and so will you. You’re a fool to come here alone.”

“Am I?” In one smooth motion, Kenma slashed his knife, blood spurting behind him as he lunged forward, throwing it into the heart of the guard threatening Kuroo. At the sight, Kuroo couldn’t help but close his eyes, wincing as he heard screams. All he knew was Kenma, tearing through the ranks of the men. When it finally quieted, he looked up again, stomach churning at the sight. Bodies littered the floor and Kenma was the sole person standing, two wickedly curved blades in hand. He was breathing hard. 

“Kenma,” Kuroo managed. Instantly, Kenma’s head whipped towards him. For a long, terrible moment, those golden eyes were like shards of glass and coupled with the blood spattered on his face, made him look inhuman. But it passed, and Kenma dropped the knives, running to Kuroo.

“You’re okay.”

“I- yeah.”

As always, Kenma noticed that something was amiss. “What’s wrong?”

“All those people,” Kuroo breathed.

“They were threatening you,” came the simple reply.

“And the boy? He was an innocent!”

“He’s not dead.”

“His father is. Everyone else is! We don’t kill off contract, don’t you know that? We promised!” And he was dumb, a kid, an utter fool. But at the time that was what mattered. Promises, trust. 

“It was necessary,” Kenma spat. “Would you prefer to have a bullet in your head? This is your fault anyway, going off and taking stupid missions on your own. If you weren’t so reckless, they,” he swept an arm around the warehouse, “wouldn’t be dead.” The last words were cutting, ones that Kenma knew would push Kuroo’s buttons. And they tore through him, guilt crashing down onto his shoulders. “Don’t you get tired of pretending you’re such a good person? You  _ caused  _ this. Don’t think you’re so much better. I kill because you’re too much of a coward to do it!”

Had Kuroo looked up, he would’ve seen Kenma’s eyes widen with regret and his hand reach out, like an apology. But something had cracked. Maybe it was the fear of captivity, maybe it was the pent up jealousy. Kuroo started to shout at Kenma, things he didn’t believe but said anyway _.  _ He barely even remembered what he had said. It was terrible and cruel and they were awful to each other. Kenma shouted back and it devolved insults that they knew would tear into each other. Eventually, Kenma rose to his feet, trembling slightly. 

“Go to hell then.” With that, he whirled, stepping past the fallen bodies and disappearing. Kuroo was left there, still chained up until the next day, when Nekomata found him among the lifeless men. Barely conscious at that point, Kuroo was taken to the infirmary to recover for a few days. 

When he got back to their shared room, there was no trace of Kenma left. No note, no nothing. Kuroo turned around the instant he saw it, not wanting to be somewhere so lonely. On his way out, Nao nearly slammed into him. “Kuroo! Nekomata was going to tell you, but you’re going to have a new handler and partner assigned tomorrow. But your new rooms are ready, so you can start moving in today,” he rattled off. “Here’s the number, the key card, and a map. Though I suppose you won’t need it?”

“I don’t,” Kuroo replied dryly, “but why do I have to move?”

“It’s the training wing. As of today, you’re promoted.” Something buzzed in Naoi’s pocket and he glanced down. “I’ve got to go, but you should be able to figure it out.”

And just as quickly as he appeared, Naoi was gone and Kuroo was left looking at what was left of his room. But he sighed and began to pack. 

Kuroo moved into his new room, met Yaku and Kai, got settled, and didn’t see Kenma for weeks straight. The few times he caught glimpses of his former partner, Kenma was flanked by three people, all of them chatting with ease. Occasionally someone made a comment that caused Kenma to look up from his phone and give them a glare that was achingly familiar. He always looked away after that, and if Yaku or Kai ever noticed, said nothing.

“Kuroo. Earth to idiot.” Yaku waves in his face, poking him once, then twice.

Kuroo blinks with each tap, then realizes where he is. “Don’t call me an idiot.”

“He’s back! Back from the dead!” Yaku crows, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You kind of blacked out on us there, idiot. What, did the idea of being in love with one Kozume Kenma kill you?”

“Yaku, don’t be mean, he’s probably dealing with some pretty big news.”

“Should this really be a shock? It’s his feelings,” Yaku complains, strolling back to the couch.”

“We both know that Kuroo’s brain only works if he’s looking at a chemical.”

“Can you guys not insult me like I’m not  _ right here _ ?” 

“Nope.” 

Kuroo grasps around him, searching for an object to throw at Yaku but comes up empty. So he settles for a scowl that Yaku ignores. 

“So, what now?” Kai asks.

“What do you mean?”

“He means your feelings, idiot.”

“You two sound like you’re in grade school.” Kuroo leans back, still thinking hard. “But nothing now. It doesn’t matter.”

“No way, not happening.” Yaku is surprisingly insistent, even sitting up and fixing Kuroo with a hard glare. “Either you get over him, or you make a move. I’m not sitting here and listening to you talk about him every single day.”

“You’re very invested,” Kai comments, tilting his head.

Yaku crosses his arms. “It’s bec-“

“Morisuke-kun is simply trying to live vicariously through me, considering the lack of love in his own life.”

“I could kill you where you stand, Kuroo.”

“I’m sitting, though.”

Yaku has his knife out of its sheath. Kuroo screeches as he lunges across the table. This time, Kai makes no attempt to stop them, only sighing. “I need a raise.”

* * *

Kuroo spends his next few days in his lab, on the verge of further refining a new poison. He’s almost there when a knock sounds on his door, and he jolts, dropping the slide he’d prepared. “Shit. Come in!”

“Did I mess something up for you?” Kai says apologetically as he slides open the door. 

“Nothing I can’t fix in a bit. What’s up?” Kuroo sits down, pulling out another stool for Kai, who shakes his head. 

“It’s almost Saturday.”

“What’s Sat- Oh.”

“You gonna be okay?”

“You’re really like a mom. But I’ll be fine,” Kuroo says, meaning it. Something in the back of his mind dreads going to see their contact and pretending to be a couple. The idea didn’t affect him that badly before, but now… Kuroo shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

Kai watches him carefully. “I hope you will be, cause we’re sending you to meet Kenma and discuss the whole couple thing. We need some photos.”

“What?”

“There is no way we needed this much evidence for our background,” Kuroo says, looking over the railing on the rooftop of some rental place. “Sunset photos? Really?”

Tenma hums, still scrolling through the list. “Don’t ask me, I didn’t come up with the idea, your handlers did. Besides, this is the la-“

Kuroo doesn’t hear the rest, both him and Kenma whipping their heads towards their handlers. Kai at least looks mildly ashamed, but Fukunaga had the gall to be way too proud of himself.

“Fukunaga.”

“Kai.”

“Actually, this is Nekomata’s idea.” Kai grins.

Kuroo chokes. “What.” But he doesn’t get the chance to say more. Kenma’s eyes widen and he shifts into a fighting stance. “Someone’s coming.” A moment passes before Kuroo can hear it too. Boots stomping up the steps, gruff voices. “Take cover!”

Tenma and the handlers sprint behind the stairs. Kenma and Kuroo share a glance before they throw themselves behind the dumpsters, huddling together as the door to the roof slams open. Kenma peers out.

“At least seven,” he hisses. “I hear more, though.”

Grabbing his phone, he sends a message to Yaku _. We’ve been ambushed. _ Staring at Kenma, he says, “Didn’t you take down twice as many that time?” 

He tilts an annoyed glare at Kuroo and replies, “I had approximately ten times the amount of knives I have now.”

“That is, to say, how many?” Kuroo keeps himself from flinching when one of the men shouts and he can hear them spread out.

“One.”

Yaku’s reply comes quickly.  _ We know. There’s a team intercepting most of them but we couldn’t stop all. I’m on my way _ .

“Now you have two.” He holds out a blade to Kenma, who takes it with barely masked distaste.

“This knife sucks.”

“My bad, I’ll remember to bring a better one next time we’re on the verge of death.” 

Tastefully, Kenma ignores him and carelessly tears the wig off his head. “Ready?”

Kuroo tightens his grip around the gun. “Never.” 

They lunge out from behind the dumpster, Kuroo going around while Kenma springs up top, tossing the wig as a distraction before sending a man to the ground with ease. He's instantly moving to his next target. There's some insane hilarity in Kenma hurling a ball of hair at someone's face before stabbing them. Kuroo tries not to laugh, because _goddamnit, people are trying to kill us and you're laughing, Tetsurou._ He does his part though, ensuring the fallen man isn’t getting back up with a quick stomp to the stomach and throwing himself into the fight, a few paces behind Kenma.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Kai joining the fray, hearing the commotion. A rush of relief floods him, knowing that those two are fighting alongside him. Kenma is a little more deadly than Kai, though. Kuroo’s distraction disappears when a bullet flies past him.  _ That was  _ too _ close. _

Kenma hurls one of his knives at the man who fired at him and lunges after it, yanking it out as he collapses. His eyes fly back to Kuroo, sharper than ever.

“I’m fine!” He shouts over the commotion as he whirls and shoots the hand of someone who’s aiming at Kenma. Kuroo ducks before running further into the fray. Contrary to popular belief, he  _ can _ fight. And he’s not going to sit around when his people are being attacked. Kenma ends up beside him, and they move in unison with a familiarity from years past. Kenma slashes at their shins and Kuroo handles the rest. He never shoots someone fatally, though. Whether they live or die is up to Kenma. But they’re still outnumbered.

Until Yaku’s team bursts through the doors, already firing. His partner spearheads the assault, his aim perfect.

With the backup, they clean up the rest of enemies easily. Yaku ends up beside Kuroo, and when the last drops, he says, “The audacity of them to attack us when we did nothing wrong. That’s what they get.”

Kuroo stares at the nearest person, the logo on their clothes and remembers a golden crest in an overly large house. “I’m fairly sure we killed their boss.”

“Their boss, who shouldn’t matter since it should be a professional relationship.” 

“That makes it sound suspiciously like you wouldn’t raise all hell if Nekomata got killed.”

“Like hell I wouldn’t. But I doubt they’re from an organized team like us.” 

Kuroo snorts. “They literally have a logo.”

They get interrupted from further arguments when Kai shouts, “If you two have time to chat, get ready to fight. There’s more incoming!”

“This is a tiny ass rooftop for a massive fight like this,” Yaku mutters, already raising his guns. “You should probably go hide with the rest of the non-combatants, Dr. Kuroo,” he adds over his shoulder.

“I’ll have you know I am perfectly capable in a fight,” Kuroo shoots back, his own gun raised.

“Sure.” They whirl as people come up from the sides of the building, having abandoned the door completely. A group appears from the emergency stairs. “What are they, Spider-Man?”

“As far as I recall, there’s only one,” Kuroo drawls in response.

Bullets fly at them and Kuroo dodges right while Yaku only ducks and rolls, already firing when he’s upright. He swears as one grazes his arm. Separated from Yaku, Kuroo retreats into the group of allies in the centre, shooting all the while. A form slams into him.

“Kenma!” 

There’s blood on his face, and his eyes are dangerous. Everything about Kenma screams  _ weapon  _ but Kuroo feels a rush of nostalgia. _Just like old times._

“Be safe,” Kuroo says.

Kenma nods before slipping away, the pair of knives in hand already whirling.

Most of the fight is a blurred mess, his memory of it warped by adrenaline and the sheer confusion of it. But they win. It comes to a fitting end when Kenma hurls the knife Kuroo gave him into the throat of a man before a retreat is called. Many of their enemies end up dead, with Kiyoko’s team sweeping in to help them clear up. Nekomata orders some to chase down the remnants and make sure they know what happens when you cross Nekoma. When Kenma tries to join, he’s shot down, ordered to rest, while Kuroo gets ushered away after someone tends to his arm. So together, they sit on the cement ledge at the edge of the roof, legs dangling through the railing. 

Kuroo doesn’t look back, at the bodies being hauled away, at the blood that gets rinsed. Instead his eyes stick firmly to the horizon, where the last vestiges of sunlight are fading.

Surprisingly, Kenma is the one who speaks first. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he replies softly.

“You don’t like bloodshed. And today-“

“It’s okay. I’m just not looking at the aftermath. You were amazing today.”

“Really?” Kenma sounds skeptical, something Kuroo can’t even blame him for. He'd been burned too many times when Kuroo had criticized his methods.

“Yeah. When we bumped into each other after Yaku arrived, you looked scary as hell. It was cool. Plus,” Kuroo adds, “you probably kept me alive before backup.”

“With Kai’s help.” 

“Still.”

There’s a beat of silence before Kenma holds out the small knife Kuroo had given to him. “This knife sucks.”

“You said that already.”

“The balance is off, the hilt isn’t sturdy, and it dulled quickly. Chipped a bit too.”

“You don’t need to list the failings of the random knife I swiped from-“ Kuroo thinks back to when he got the knife. “From your desk when we were kids.”

“What.”

“That’s right! This was your knife, and you were roasting it so badly.”

Kenma’s frown deepens. “You stole from me?”

“I borrowed. See, I even gave it back!”

“Non-consensual borrowing is called stealing, Kuro.”

“There’s no point in focusing on the details.”

“Yes, there is. It’s literally your job.”

“There isn’t.”

“There is.”

“Isn’t.”

“Is.”

Kuroo blows out a puff of air. “This seems too familiar.”

“You get repetitive, sometimes.” Kenma slips the knife into whatever sheath he carries around with him.

“Me? Try both of us. It takes two to tango, yknow.”

“We’ve already established that I don’t dance.” Kenma turns his head, haughty. 

Kuroo snorts. “Oh shut up, you were a fine dancer. Very convincing.” 

“You’re biased.” Kenma sounds like he’s pouting, and sure enough, when Kuroo looks over, Kenma is sulking like he normally does when faced with compliments.

“I am not.”

“Are too- I’m not doing this again.” 

“We really are repetitive.” Kuroo laughs and somehow he feels lighter than he’s ever been, despite the exhaustion of the battle dragging at his limbs. Kenma smiles at him, and backed by the night sky, Kuroo has never felt so sure that he’s in love with him.  _ I really was an idiot. Still am. _ Maybe it’s something with the adrenaline still in his veins, or maybe he’s just feeling braver than ever, but he looks up to the sky, where the stars are beginning to show, and says,

“I love you.” 

* * *

“I love you.”

The words hang in the air for a moment. Kenma can feel Kuroo’s eyes on him, burning into his skin. He can’t look back at him, can’t look at the intensity. So he stares into the waning sunset and waits.

“I think,” Kuroo adds.

Still not turning his head, Kenma arches an eyebrow. “You think?”

Kuroo takes a breath. “Yaku and Kai kind of told me. But- No, wait.”

This draws a laugh out of Kenma. He tips his head back enough to peer at Kuroo through the corner of his eyes. His best friend’s gaze is faraway as his mind sifts through the mess of thoughts. Kuroo’s brain always went faster than everyone else’s.There's a way Kuroo manages to look focused and yet so distant. Finally, he straightens.

“I have always loved you.That’s the only thing in my life that has never,  _ will never _ , change. Whether it was platonically or- or otherwise.”

“Otherwise?”

Kuroo scowls. “You like pushing it, don’t you?”

Kenma only looks at him, amusement dancing in golden eyes.

“I love you. Romantically, forever and always. Is that good enough?”

“Yep.” Kenma holds out a hand and their fingers tangle together for a moment before intertwining. Kuroo watches him, and he can tell Kenma is lost in thought. “Took you long enough. Kuro,” he says, turning to look at Kuroo. His face is so soft, Kenma thinks. Kind.

“Hm?

“I love you too. I never thought this day would come,” he shakes his head, “not really.”

“How long have you known?”

“I don’t really know. Certainly longer than you,” Kenma says, grinning cheekily. “I didn’t need someone else to tell me.”

“Look-” Kuroo is cut off when Kenma breaks into laughter. “You’re laughing at me!” Kenma doesn’t reply, trying to catch his breath. “You-”

There’s something just so insane about the whole situation, the years they spent and wasted, the dance they had, and Kenma just has to laugh. Kuroo’s face when he confessed was so shocked despite every sign pointing to the fact that Kenma loved him. “You’re oblivious, Kuro.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be heartfelt and emotional right now?” Kuro says accusingly. He’s not hurt though, smiling crookedly. 

“Happiness is an emotion, too,” Kenma points out, finally managing to stop laughing. 

“You have a point.”

Kenma smiles again, leaning over and dropping his head onto Kuroo’s shoulder. “I’m happy, Kuro.”

“Good,” he replies softly. They sit there in silence, watching the sky together. And maybe it had just been a battle, but Kenma felt peaceful. 

Kuroo’s side is warm, and he feel his eyelids droop, eyes drifting down to where the white sleeves of his shirt had been stained with the blood from the battle. Something dark seizes him, and he quietly says, “I’m sorry.”

“Kenma?”

“We- I’m not a good person.”

“I know. It doesn’t matter. You’re the person I choose.”

“But I’ve- you don’t like it. All the death.” Maybe this is long overdue. Even when they’d just begun as assassins, Kuroo had always looked apprehensive when they were in training. Despite everything, Kenma had enjoyed it. Not the physical part, but it was interesting. It made him feel like a character in a game. But with Kuroo there, always slightly, uncomfortable, he’d questioned himself.

“I don’t like  _ unnecessary _ death. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m an assassin too.” Kuroo pats him on the head, hard enough to feel like a reprimand.

“That’s different. You followed me into this.”

That brings a sheepish smile to Kuroo’s face. “You figured it out?”

“You’re not the sneakiest person.” Kenma looks over at him, and Kuroo stares back, wide-eyed. A wry laugh drags from his lips. “That’s why you’re not meant for this, Kuroo. You want so badly to be good, you’re so caring, you, you,” he trails off, a self deprecating tone in his voice. “I’m not worth what you sacrificed.”

“Sacrifice?”

Kenma stills at the roughness in Kuroo’s voice.

“I would have sacrificed my whole world if I didn’t follow you.”

“You could’ve changed the world for the better-”

“Do you ever wonder why I agonized over that decision until the moment you made yours? The second I found out you’d chosen to become an assassin, I knew that I was going to follow you. I’ve always followed you. Even if I didn’t know where I was going, I know that if I followed you, it would be right. You’re my North star, Kenma. Like I said, forever. This whole damn world could burn, and as long as I have you, it’s okay.”

He tilts his head. “Even Yaku and Kai?”

“Can you stop, I’m trying to be sappy here,” Kuroo complains. 

“I'm trying to get you to stop being sappy. I don’t want you to be sappy and eloquent. I want you to be yourself, the idiot who stumbles over his words cause his brain is thinking four different things at once.”

“Now who’s being sappy?”

“Shut up.” And Kenma makes him, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his lips. It’s short and sweet and Kuroo is left gaping. 

“That’s not fair,” he protests. “Can we do that again? I wasn’t ready!”

Kenma looks at him fondly. Kuroo matches his gaze, puppy eyes wide. Maybe master assassin Kozume Kenma has some weaknesses. “Sure.”

He can feel Kuroo smiling into their kiss and his heart is about to give in, at the rate it’s beating. After they break apart, they don’t pull away, leaning their foreheads against each other.

“I'm glad we got here,” Kuroo says.

“Me too. I love you, Kuro.”

“I love you too.”

They only get a moment of silence before stomping can be heard. Kuroo tenses on instinct, but Kenma remains relaxed. They turn to look as a pair come storming onto the roof.

“Who are you and what do you want with our Kenma?” Tora growls. Fukunaga gives them a little wave from beside him.

“Our-“

“Don’t choke,” Kenma adds helpfully. Kuroo shoots him a glare and he amends, “Tora, you can stop that. This is Kuro.”

“Kuro? Oh,  _ that _ Kuro. The one you always complain about?”

“You talk about me?” Kuroo asks, pressing a hand to his chest.

“ _ Complain _ about you. Stop your dramatics.”

“Still!”

“Are you ignoring us?” Tora says. He sounds unsure of how to react. Fukunaga nods.

“It’s ‘cause they’re in love.”

“Fukunaga!” They say in unison.

A beat passes.

Tora bursts out laughing. “Holy shit, you’re right! They’re so in sync, they can forget about the world around them!” He swoons, making a kissy face.

“I hear Kuroo being bullied!” A familiar voice calls. Kuroo groans. Yaku waves as he strolls over. “Who’re you all?”

“Yamamoto Taketora,” Tora says, sticking out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You’re never this polite,” Kenma mutters.

“Shaddup!” Yamamoto replies. “It’s Yaku Morisuke, he’s super cool,” he adds lowly.

But the his idea of subtlety is subpar, and Yaku’s eyes widen. Kuroo grins. “Hear that, Morisuke-chan? You’re  _ faaaamous _ .” 

“Say goodbye to your hair.” Yaku suddenly has a knife and Kuroo is scared.

“Will you finally fix his hair? It’s so messy,” Kenma pipes up. Kuroo looks at him, betrayed.

“I thought you liked it!”

“It’s bedhead.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t like it.”

“Leave us out of your couple’s quarrel, please and thank you.”

“Go to hell, Yaku.”

“Should you really be saying that when I have hard copies of your lovey-dovey photos?” Yaku reveals and waves them triumphantly. “Kai gave them to me.” Kuroo lunges for them but Yaku only twists out of reach, waving them above his head. “You really need to work on your speed.”

There’s a blur as Kenma snatches the photos from Yaku, ending up a few paces away, the backsides displayed with a flourish. “Maybe you should work on your reflexes, Yaku-san,” Kenma says mildly, though there’s a proud glint in his eyes. 

“Oh, it’s on, Kozume.” Yaku pulls out his knife again. Yamamoto moves as if to protect Kenma, but Fukunaga pulls him back. 

“Don’t hurt him too badly,” Kuroo says. 

“I won’t,” Yaku replies. “Wouldn’t dare hurt Kuroo’s precious-” He yelps as Kenma flies past him, disarming him with ease. 

“I meant Kenma. You know, you should probably remember that you specialize in guns, and not challenge our org’s best assassin in a knife fight.” 

Kenma sighs as he sits down. “Is it always like this with you guys?”

“Pretty much. Kai probably gets a migraine everyday.” 

Kenma makes a face. “I’m not defending your honour anymore.”

“I can defend my own honour,” Kuroo protests. 

"Okay, okay, yeah I'm leaving," Yaku sounds disgusted. Kuroo sticks out his tongue at him, which he only returns in kind.

Fukunaga seems to get the memo, grabbing Yamamoto by the arm. "Time to go, boyo."

With a confused sound, Yamamoto obliges, calling behind him as Fukunaga leads him away. "Kenma! Don't forget about us!"

Kenma's face contorts, disgruntled. "They're a pain."

"They're your team," Kuroo chides gently. 

"Still annoying. Like you." There's no heat behind his words, and Kuroo looks too happy to even react.

"Meanie," he says.  Kenma leans into him, shivering slightly. He'd never been good at staying warm. it's why he gravitated to hoodies, but this photoshoot left him in a simple long sleeved shirt, nothing that would keep him warm for long as the night stretched on. Kuroo notices, cause he's always stupidly observant when it comes to Kenma and stands up. "Let's go inside."

Kenma doesn't fight him, staying close to Kuroo as they walk downstairs. He yawns, the exhaustion catching up to him. Kuroo glances down at him. "Do you want to just crash in my room? It's closer."  Kenma gives him a look, one that Kuroo correctly interprets. "Not like that!" he yelps. "I swear!"

Kenma laughs. "Sure."

* * *

Kuroo opens his eyes. The room is dark, the morning sun not breaking through his curtains yet. Beside him, Kenma is still fast asleep, curled into his side. Soft hair is spread out on the pillow, and Kuroo rolls over to watch him. He feels so warm inside, heart fuller than ever. If this is what he gets to wake up to... he feels like he's melting. Kenma shifts in his sleep, lips curling slightly into a soft smile. Yeah, he's definitely melting. Kuroo could get used to this. Despite the past, his future felt brighter than ever. He sighs, though there's still a feeling of forgetting something. Then it hits him.

"Kenma, get up. We have to meet with our contact." Kuroo props himself up on an arm and shakes him lightly, once or twice before Kenma opens an eye. 

"We have a meeting, Kenma."

"It's fine," he mutters, voice caked with sleepiness. "We don't even need to act anymore, so there's no need to prepare."

Kuroo blinks. Then again, taking in what he meant. "We're dating," he breathes." He gets to _date_ Kenma. He gets to make Kenma happy.

"Yeah, we are, so go back to bed." Kenma takes advantage of Kuroo's epiphany to drag him back down, pressing a kiss to his cheek and burrowing back into the blankets. Kuroo lies there, dazed. 

He _really_ could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry for my brainworms, my writing is literally the most chaotic thing, considering i have never once outlined a fic before writing,,, :D oops. this also turned out wayyyy longer than i planned hahaHahah i thought. i thought it would be only 8k oh no. anyways,,, mildly feral assassin kenma is something i very much like, and kuroo's characterization is quite literally the least consistent thing in hq fanon so uhhhh hope i did this boi justice. but yeah im so sorry if there's any continuity errors it comes with my writing style + my beta (and i) got swamped with school !! and i barely finished this on time (as i speak its 2 am, i have to wake up in 5 hours) pls point them out if you want i'll fix! half of these scenes have been written twice at different times and there's attempts to mash them together idk i'm rambling its late but- happy holidays! have a good kuroken christmas


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